


Mine, Mine, Mine

by Yusagi



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Jealousy, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Smut, Submissive Han Jumin, lemme just spoil the whole thing in tags why don't i
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25199440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yusagi/pseuds/Yusagi
Summary: Jumin Han indulges her every urge. Sometimes, that makes her terribly spoiled.
Relationships: Han Jumin/Main Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 133





	Mine, Mine, Mine

**Author's Note:**

> There's like 50 stories about jealous and possessive Jumin making a mark on the MC, but where is the story where she's the jealous one being unreasonably possessive?
> 
> It's here. This is that story.

Jumin Han is the last man that she should even possibly worry about straying from her.

There’s no reason for her to be jealous of anyone when he looked at the other women in his life - barring Assistant Kang - with barely concealed disdain. He's also simply too socially awkward to manage an affair even if he hit his head or gets drunk and suddenly decides he wanted to.

More than that, he gives her everything she can possibly want. Whenever she voices even a passing whim, whether or not she voices it intentionally, he immediately stops everything he's doing to try to please her.

Probably...it’s made her a bit spoiled.

It doesn’t bother him at all, and that doesn’t help her wicked indulgences and spoiled behavior. She never takes advantage of him, never asks for what she knows is too much from him, but she’d be lying if she claimed she's not still a bit spoiled, by his own design.

And so, when she sees a beautiful, glamorous woman standing too near to her husband, she can’t help the way jealousy flares up even despite all reason.

The woman is beautiful. Immaculate. _Tarted up,_ an uncharitable part of her mind supplies. He is utterly unaffected, eyes devoid of any spark of even passing interest as she plastered herself all over him, arms gripping his, brazenly pressing his arm between prominently displayed breasts. She may well have not even been standing there for all he notices her. It's a credit to her determination that she forges onward despite that. He politely ignores her advances, instead talking animatedly about the business proposition that she’d approached him with in the first place. The woman is the daughter of some company head, and that company must be terribly sure they can get a better deal if they seduce the son of a noted womanizer. She must be so very _secure_ in her wiles, thinking she can pry a married man out of his wife’s clutches in broad daylight.

It's all she can do not to leap at the woman from the doorway where she observes and just claw the woman’s face like some teenage girl in a comedy flick.

She doesn’t do it. But it's close.

Eventually, they come to some kind of agreement, and the woman reaches down to sign the paperwork in an awkward way designed to try to keep her cleavage plastered to his arm. When the woman throws a salacious wink at the director, she _strikes_. Not at the woman, fortunately. But it's close.

Instead, she pounces her husband, wrapping her arms around his other arm and tugging him firmly away from the _harlot--_ woman. From the woman. She speaks in a voice that's too sweet as she drags her husband away (with a noted lack of resistance). “Oh, My Love~! There you are. Come with me now~”

Her husband stumbles over his words for a moment, and it's rather adorable. She lifts her chin, giving a little huff of pride, and makes sure to give the woman a _look_. A 'this is _mine'_ look. If there's an unspoken ' _bitch'_ punctuating that look, that just can't be helped.

She leads her husband out of the room by the hand, head held high. “Assistant Kang, won’t you finish up the paperwork with that lovely woman in there? My husband just had something important come up.”

Jaehee’s gaze flickers between their joined hands, their expressions, and then the woman in the room, before giving a soft sigh. “...I’ll shuffle around the meetings.”

Her husband’s voice is against her ear as they walked, deep and unfairly amused. “Are you _jealous_ , my love?”

She glanced up at him over his shoulder, summoning a look that’s much too cute for her clearly unacceptable behavior. “Can’t I be?”

A smile altogether too sweet and loving for her being so inappropriate spreads across his lips, and his free hand reaches up to gently run along her jaw. “Please do. My wife should indulge herself completely.”

Oh, he spoils her too much.

Just, entirely too much.

It makes it that much harder to keep her cool and control on the impromptu ride home. That, and the fact that her dear husband has settled in close to her, arms curling around her, face in her neck. She'd feel guilty being even briefly jealous over a man so obviously devoted to her if she could think straight. If a woman exists who could think straight with Jumin Han kissing her neck, well...she wouldn't. She just wouldn't exist. She refuses to accept such a person can exist. The exotic and beautiful smell of his ludicrously expensive cologne fills her nose, the warmth of his lips and tongue spreads through her body to her heart, and that prickling, too-sweet, chemical smell of the other woman's perfume turns the warmth into a jealous burn that blooms violently in her chest. Her fingers card through his hair just roughly enough to earn the soft purrs from his throat that always result in answering gasps from her.

The ride to their house passes in a blur, with a mutual pawing at each other in the seat that's completely unbecoming of a couple their age. When they stumble out of the car, their clothes are more than disheveled, and her husband can't quite stand up straight. The sight of his blush and shortened pace cause a fresh blush to rush across her face and her heartbeat to speed up once more. His half-lidded gaze meets hers just outside the door, and for a moment she wonders if they'll even make it inside.

They do.

But it's only because she's so very determined to have her way - and he is, also, very determined to have her way.

He spoils her too much, but maybe in this case it's a good thing, as otherwise there'd undoubtedly be stories of the rich CEO in line having sex with his wife outside the door of their extravagant mansion.

She leads him by the hand through the house with a firm grip. As if he'll pull away otherwise. For the most part, from when they left the building to now he's been quiet, hardly passive, but more than willing to allow her to take control of the situation without question.

Once they get to the bed, he finally speaks once more, hand going to loosen his tie. "My love, what is it? Were you so perturbed by her? If you wish-"

"You're mine, aren't you?" She speaks over him, because if he finishes that question when she's feeling this selfish, she knows she'll ask for something that she doesn't mean, something that will interfere with his work, and he'll agree without a moment of hesitation. She knows herself, and more importantly she knows him. Her sweet, beloved, terribly devoted husband, who wishes only for her to put herself before everything else in life, even him. One of her hands place over his heart - racing as quickly as hers, despite his gentle expression - and the other presses to his cheek, a gesture he immediately responds to by nuzzling much like their cat would.

"Completely. Not an ounce of me is anything less than yours."

The honey in his voice, that unfiltered love and devotion, it can make her melt completely. It has in the past. It might do it again. She might physically just turn into a puddle. And...damn it, she wants to do something else first! No melting yet, no swooning from the wonderfully deep and sensual voice of her husband! Not this time! She's set her heels in to be selfish and stubborn, and if she's dragged him from work she's going to go through with it!

"Lay on the bed." Her commanding tone is ruined by the compulsive, softer "Please." that follows it.

The smile that unfurled on his face is like the breaking dawn, beautiful enough to take her breath away just looking at it, and when he leans down to scoop her up into another kiss, she loses complete track of what day, planet, or plane of existence she still occupies. Who knows if she's even still existing at all? She doesn't. It might last forever, that kiss, one of his arms wrapping around her to pull her close, the other gently cradling her head through her hair. It is a kiss they've both learned for each other. Their earliest kisses had been just a touch awkward, uncertain and inexperienced on both of their ends, and it had been practice with each other that perfected it, exactly to the way that drove the both of them the most crazy.

She might be swept away and satisfied by the hotness of his mouth on hers, the way she can feel him tremble with the very same love and desire that she feels coursing through her own veins. Any doubt she could have washes away in nothing more than a kiss. He needn't have answered her before, because the kiss tells her 'I am yours', as much as she tells him she is his with it, as much as any words could have.

But she is selfish.

She feels greedy.

Today she wants more.

So, she pries herself out of the wonderful kiss and pushes her lanky husband into the king sized bed they share. It takes him no time at all to move and make himself comfortable, laying on his back, dress shirt half unbuttoned, hair disheveled and lips shining, just slightly swollen from their kisses. He is a work of art that puts old masterpieces to shame. Something beautiful she never wants to share with the world. This side of him. The burning love and lust in his eyes as he watches her expectantly, the entirely human Juman Han she knows, without a trace of the cold and reserved 'robot' that people who know nothing about him accuse him of being. Only she ever wants to be able to see it.

She straddles him on the bed, still clothed, and gently pulls his arms up to the head of the bed. He calls her name gently, questioning, as she ties one wrist deftly with his tie and the other with a long and sturdy kerchief. There. He absolutely can break free if he wants to, but...the image of her dear husband tied to her bed, her prisoner for the moment, is good enough. And her dear husband is as quick to indulge her desires as ever.

She leans down to kiss his forehead, his nose, his lips. He chases after her futilely when she pulls away from him, and her finger trails along his jaw and throat, admiring the sensation of him swallowing under her fingertip. She speaks quietly, with a sultry tone that surprises even herself. "I need to leave more marks on you, so that no one will try to touch what's mine."

He groans her name as she leans down to kiss and bite down his exposed neck, and she can't help but enjoy the sight of his adam's apple bob before her eyes. Her lips encircle over it as it moves, and he twists bodily under her. Underneath her hands, she can _feel_ the groan that ripples through his chest. it makes her purr and shiver in response. They've not really experimented that much, honestly. Most of their lovemaking is straightforward, falling into each other's embrace, loving every part of each other, every moment they can spend together.

But...

The sensation of her husband twisting beneath her, the labored breaths of his restraint, it does something that leaves her dizzy and feeling powerful.

Her fingers reach down to undo his buttons while she kisses down heated skin, murmurs out words against his racing heart. "After all...you're mine, aren't you? All of you. Your heart. Your body." Her tongue traces along the dips and curves of his chest, as her hands splay out to tug soft silk away from his form. A cry that's almost shrill tears from his throat as her teeth loosely encircle one dusky nipple, the tip of her tongue swirling along it. Ah, if only she'd done some studying before this. If she'd looked up some techniques, rather than impulsively decided to do this without warning, she's sure she could be much better at this. Leaving her darling the kind of whimpering mess she feels like he leaves her as would be a wonderful turn, wouldn't it?

Yet, this is all about herself for now. Just this time.

She can hear his voice rasp from above her, an affirmative that isn't truly necessary. "My heart..."

She wants to press herself into him. To mark him somehow, so that women who look at him know to stay back, that he's hers even when she's not standing nearby. Something more than just a physical mark like a ring, but an aura that simply pushes them all away.

"My soul-" or so he tries to say. She's bolder after the first, lips and teeth biting down teasingly, even tugging at the other nipple while he's speaking. It's a rather pleasant sound he makes, the way his low and rumbling voice melts into incoherence, a needy, almost confused sound she hasn't often heard from him.

Her teeth graze his belly button as her gaze turns up to look at him. Sweat beads across his forehead, face reddened, gaze fixated on her as his hands flex into fists. His lips part just slightly, as if he wishes to say something more, but has forgotten the words. It's a sight that sends a surge of want through her, and forces her to swallow down an undignified sound. "Even when you're away....I'm the only thing on your mind, isn't that right? You're all mine."

His voice is strained. "My love..." her hand palms over the painfully obvious erection still trapped by his perfectly tailored suit pants, and his words trail off into a tormented groan, head falling back into the pillow, veins in his neck bulging as he twists his whole body once more.

It only takes a moment more to undo those expensive pants and tug down his boxers, silk already stained with the beading pre at his tip. Even if she hadn't been able to tell through his pants, it's really no surprise to see just how stiffly her husband is already at attention. He's always extremely responsive to her, always seeking more from any of her loving touches the same as she seeks more from his. But from the current angle, him just barely managing to turn a hungry gaze back down to her, his face now obscured in her vision by his shaft, she can't help another little surge of power. Making her husband so undone so easily...he gives her too much power over him, honestly. She could abuse it at any time. Doesn't he realize she could be a beast, too, just as much as Zen claims her husband could be?

Slim fingers encircle the base of his length, slowly moving just to draw out that honey-thick moan, extracting it as slowly as her hand moves, filling her ears with the sound of his voice. "This, too." She presses her lips to the very tip of his manhood, pulling away teasingly the moment his hips jerk up to pursue her. He's spoken bashfully from time to time about 'unfair' thoughts he's had about her lips. She wonders, idly, if perhaps this is one of those scenarios or not. It goes without question that she'll indulge him in his fantasies as much as he indulges her, but he's never elaborated beyond the vague references when he's hot and bothered but can't do anything about it. Her hand grips him harder, pumping along hot flesh with determination, relishing in the groans, those desperate almost squeaking gasps as he struggles to form words of either protest or encouragement - she can't tell, because he never gets far enough along.

She bites her lip, drawing in a shaky breath. "I'm the only one that gets to see...to touch, and to use this." -other than him, her mind helpfully supplies, and she quickly tosses that thought aside - _Not now, dammit! -_ Her lips encircle him, tongue curling along that hot flesh - smooth and soft skin thinly stretched over hard steel. His hips buck up against her with unusual urgency, and that pained cry that rips from her throat sounds anything but pleasurable. The bed creaks as his wrists strain automatically, and he gasps her name in such a strangled voice she can barely recognize it.

She hums around him as she moves, listening to that faintly wet sound pair with the panting, needy gasps of her husband. The springs on the bed squeak lightly with every urging buck of his hips into her mouth, and she firmly places her hands on that rather lovely pelvis of his, keeping them still. As if she's punishing him for something. As if to drive the point home that he's hers, that his body is hers, and that no other woman is allowed to touch him but her. The taste of him on her tongue causes a heady rush that makes her eyes flutter shut briefly, the short and choked moans punctuate faintly wet sounds as he lips and tongue glide with determined purpose.

It never takes particularly long for her lover to climax - something mutual between them, fortunately - but it's even more brief this time, comparatively. She can feel the way he tenses underneath her, the way his voice turns pleading, desperate and shrill - a lovely crack in his voice she likes to believe no one else knows is even possible from him. He's so hot in her mouth it almost burns. The head of the bed creaks dangerously, as if wood could splinter at any moment. His stomach twitches and flexes as he crunches and writhes, jerking hard enough to bounce lightly on their plush bed, her name is so tormented and sweet in her ear. He pulses inside her mouth, up against the flat of her tongue, hard enough to make his length flex and bounce against the roof of her tongue.

It's the only warning she gets before he bursts in her mouth, hot and salty, flooding her cheeks, making her struggle to swallow him down as ragged sobs wrench from his throat.

He's a panting and wheezing mess, her dear husband, face turned to partly bury himself in their pillow, what's still visible red and beaded with perspiration. 

Has she seen him so completely wrecked before? It's hard to say, but it makes her heart clench and her thighs squeeze together at the same time.

Feeling rather like...a panther, a dangerous and powerful cat who's cornered her prey and has him right where she wants him, she slips back up along his body. Her fingers trail along his skin and she enjoys the twitching and flexing of his muscles wherever her nails lightly run.

When she leans down to capture his lips in a possessive kiss, she very nearly dies.

She's never felt him so needy, so urgent, so determined to pour his feelings into a kiss like he's simply put all of the authority and demand that he uses as 'director of C&R' into burning her lips and mouth with the love and dedication filling his body. He still doesn't break away from those hastily tied knots, he makes no requests of her to release him, he simply kisses her - biting and nibbling and suckling at her lip and tongue in ways they've done before but never quite this way - in a way that reaches deep into her body and physically _yanks_ at her stomach. She can barely breathe, even when they pull apart again, eyes nearly the same color now with their matching pupils, cheeks red and hot enough to radiate heat between them.

"I love you." She breathes it out without even really meaning to, barely even conscious that it's what she's speaking and not simply what she's loudly thinking.

The look on his face is so full of adoration that for a terrible moment she's almost sure he might cry instead. "There is nothing I could ever love so much as you."

He's so eloquent when she's just had him a mewling mess on the bed that it's hardly fair. She's supposed to be the one taking control and being a selfish brat, but he's sweeping her away and leaving her swooning instead. She draws in a sharp breath before her throat can seize up or the prickling in her eyes can become worse, and she quickly looks away from him at a wall. She draws herself up, then, still straddling him, sitting lightly atop his abdomen.

Somewhat composed once more, she summons the strength to turn her gaze back down to the entirely smitten look of her husband.

"Then, my darling...." She touches his chest with a finger, and her lips curl up into a smirk, as she feels perhaps a touch too proud of herself. "You won't mind if I ride you until you can't remember anything else but me."

**Author's Note:**

> When you want to dirty talk but you're too high society.
> 
> (How do you title pwp? heck if I know)


End file.
